Chapter Text
It was around 1 in the morning. Shōta was wide awake, tired but awake. He was comfortable on the sofa, wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of grey sweats, grading papers of the helions of 1A. He let out a deep groan, put his hair into a low ponytail, dry-washed his face and changed his posture, just to hear three quiet knocks on the door, so quiet he almost didn't hear them.
He groaned again, forcing himself to his feet to open the door to who was, much to his certainty, Hizashi. Hizashi visits whenever he wants, and midnight visits aren't unusual. He often comes to grade papers or just hang around Shōta, and Shōta himself doesn't have much of a choice in that.
He put an exasperated look on his face, levelled at Hizashi's height and opened the door just for his eyes not to find any loud, tall blond to glare at. Instead, they found a much shorter person; Izuku Midoriya.
The kid was standing in the hallway, wearing a matching hoodie to Shōta's, and his All Might-themed scarf surrounded his neck. Despite how warm his clothes looked, the kid's skin was pale as a ghost, cheeks, nose, and ears blushed pink from the cold, and his eyes were red-rimmed as though he had been using erasure for too long.
"Midoriya?" He said, brows furrowed and concern building in him. "I'm sorry," Midoriya said. "I know it's late. I didn't mean to wake you up." Aizawa didn't respond right away. Instead, he scanned the boy with a calculating look. No injuries, good. He shifted to the side to allow Midoriya to get in. "Come in, shoes off."
Izuku hesitated before he crossed the door, he left his shoes at the entryway and took slow, unsure steps into the living room, stopping in the middle.
By now, Aizawa had had tens of thoughts and concerns about why one of his students was at his door at 1 am.He has noticed things about Midoriya so far. From what he could interpret, the kid didn't have the best home life. And although Midoriya had told him about One For All and how he was quirkless before, along with all the bullying that came with it, he never spoke directly about his home life.
Aizawa himself could pick up a couple of hints: the way the kid wasn't too fond of returning home after their one-on-one training sessions; the too many times he was powering on only instant ramen and not real home-cooked food, the way he'd talk about going home to no one there, and the way he leans into the touch whenever Shōta puts a hand on his head or shoulder.
Despite all of this, he always shows up to class early, clothes clean, homework done, hell, he even excels, and Shōta has seen him eating lunch or buying things from one of the vending machines, so he must have enough money. Shōta was almost sure this was just emotional neglect. Almost.
All of these thoughts replayed in his mind in less than two seconds before he spoke to Midoriya again. He knows it's better not to push the kid into telling him why he is here instantly, so instead he asked, "Did you eat anything for dinner, problem child?" Izuku responded with nothing but a flinch to the nickname and a lost empty stare, as he didn't even hear what his teacher said.
"Izuku, can you hear me, kid?" Shōta took a couple of steps closer. Izuku said nothing, but his gaze became more focused. "Izuku, I'm going to touch you. Is this okay?" Shōta really didn't want to cause the kid to flinch away from him right now. Izuku gave a slow, restricted nod. That was the cue for Shōta to put a hand on Izuku's forehead to make sure he wasn't here because he was sick. The kid wasn't feverish, which removed the possibility of a cold but raised more concerns in Shōta's head too.
"Izuku, do you think you can speak right now? Can you tell me what happened, kid?" Izuku opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, seemingly trying to speak, but nothing came out until... "She left."
And that's all Shōta needed to hear to understand. He knows Midoriya lives with his mother. He knows said mother stays at work, concerningly, too long, and he knows there couldn't be anyone else his kid is talking about right now.
Shōta felt something break inside of him in empathy for Izuku, and the only thing that came to his mind was to wrap the kid in his arms. "Oh, Izuku" his voice came out much softer than what he thought was possible, securing an arm around his kid's shoulders, the other sitting on his back, burying Izuku's face in his chest.
He felt Izuku stiffen in his arms for a moment before he relaxed again, a small broken voice escaping his throat. "You're not alone in this, Izuku. I'm here." Shōta murmured into his ear, tightening his hold just a bit.
Just then, just then his kid let out a loud broken sob into his chest, a sob that pulled one another, and another, and another, until his whole body was shaking violently. So violently that Shōta thinks the only things that hold Izuku together are his arms around him. His hands went up to clutch at Shōta's shirt, his breaths became too shallow, and in the bat of an eye, he felt Izuku's body sag down.
Instinctively, Shōta tightened his arms around the boy more, supporting his back, while easing them both onto the ground. Izuku's grip on his shirt never wavering, his sobs becoming harder and louder and more violent that Shōta thinks they might take the boy's heart out of his chest. And for sure, they took Shōta's own heart out of his own chest.
Shōta hasn't felt this afraid for a while, nor did he feel such pain. Fear for his kid who's sobbing his heart out in his arms. Pain that he felt with every part of his body and soul, and he couldn't even imagine that his kid carries the multiple of it.
Shōta was so broken he just wished, Oh if he just could take all of his kid's pain away and carry it instead. Oh, if he just could hide him in his arms, pressed close to him, and protect him from all the misery he went through his whole life. Oh if he could just make it all up for him, if he just could give him the best life one can dream of at this moment.
He couldn't do anything except hold his kid tight and close. The hand around his shoulders went up to cup the back of his head, fingers sinking in the dark green curls moving softly, while the other hand went up and down his spine, trying desperately to calm him down.
"Breathe with me, Izuku. Breathe with me, kid." Shōta tried to keep his voice collected as much as he could. "Follow my breath. Listen to my chest, kid. You need to breathe, Izuku." His hand moved curly hair from Izuku's forehead. "Come on, Izuku. Breathe with me. Breathe with me, sunshine."
Nothing seemed to calm Izuku's breakdown, and Shōta started to get really panicked and afraid for his kid. Shōta adjusted Izuku in his hold, lifting his leg from beneath his knees and sitting him sideways and completely in his lap. His whole body curled around his kid, a hand holding him around the back and the other still cradling his head as he began to shake them both slowly and soothingly back and forth, making sure to go with a slow rhythm as he wished Izuku would match his breathing to it.
Thanks to his god, the boy started to take a slower breath, slowly coming into the rhythm, and Shōta found himself stroking tears, oh so gently, from his kid's face and stroking the curls that stuck to his forehead back while whispering all the comforting things he once learnt.
"That's it, Izuku. That's it, sunshine. I'm here. You're safe here. I've got you, Izuku. You're not alone. That's it, sunshine." Shōta repeated and repeated these words like a prayer, his whole heart aching at the sight of his kid in pain and misery. Eventually, Izuku's breath became mostly normal, his muscles relaxing along. Shōta never stopped whispering in his ear the whole time. After what could have been half an hour of a breakdown, Izuku's breaths started to even out and his head became heavier against Shōta's chest until he was completely asleep, tired from all that he had been through.
Shōta waited for another fifteen minutes before he stood up, carrying Izuku gently, and went to put him in his bed. The kid stirred in the process but didn't wake up. Shōta put him in bed, untied the scarf from around his neck, pulled the covers over him, and tucked him securely. He sighed heavily as he straightened up to go back to the living room, just to be stopped by the tucking of his hoodie.
He looked down to find Izuku's wide eyes looking at him with pure fear that almost broke Shōta apart. "Yes, Izuku, what do you need?" Shōta said softly as he sat down again on the edge of the bed. "Please don't go." It came out with a voice very harsh from crying, very quiet he almost missed, and very afraid Shōta himself almost cried. "Okay kid, okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Shōta moved to sit against the headboard, Izuku's hand had to leave him just for it to clutch back as he settled down, and Izuku himself scooted over, resting his head on Shōta's chest. Shōta adjusted the covers over them both to make sure his kid was warm and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving an occasional rub up and down his arm as he whispered "I'm here, kid. It's okay. You're safe. Go back to sleep" over and over until Izuku's breath evened out again, Indicating he's fast asleep.
Shōta sat in the dark, staring, trying to put himself back together from the unexpected emotional roller coaster he was in. Millions of thoughts flew around his head, causing him a headache that he couldn't focus on any of them, so he decided that since he's already stuck in bed with Izuku, it's better to have some sleep.